Recovery
by Neuronerd
Summary: A cranky surgeon is left for dead on Olduvai with Sam. Can she save Reaper and get out alive? Rated M for language. AU- Sam/Reaper/OC
1. Chapter 1 Left Behind

**A/N: So, I finally got around to watching Doom and it inspired me to write this little ditty. This will probably be my one and only Doom fic, so I apologize if everything isn't spot on. It doesn't follow the movie exactly, I know. Reviews are always nice. Cheers!**

**Chapter 1- Left Behind**

I leaned back in my chair with my hands behind my head, resigned to my fate. The sirens blared and the red warning lights flashed every two seconds. I sucked on my bottom lip as I looked over at the nano wall in the med bay that was closed for the moment. God knows what was running amok on the other side.

_What a fucking bizarre way to die._

I never wanted to come to the Olduvai research station on Mars. Earth suited me just fine. I had envisioned a nice little private practice somewhere, pulling down a nice six figure salary and an early retirement in a warm locale. But no. Like a fucking moron I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when a surgeon was needed on Mars. It was only a short term assignment, they said. You'll be home in no time, they said.

_Fucking liars._

I was assigned to work under the charming Dr. Carmack. I knew from the moment I met him that he was a cowardly bastard that would throw anyone necessary under the bus to save his own hide. Sure enough, word spread quickly that he had ordered an evacuation and called in the Marines to save his ass, but neglected to tell everyone- namely me. I pushed a stray lock of hair out of my eyes and glanced at the door again when I heard a blood curdling cry and growling. I had no idea what the hell was out there, but I caught a glimpse of what looked like a skinned alien with big, nasty teeth and it looked like something I wanted to stay clear of. I made sure the gun I had smuggled into the facility was locked and loaded. One bullet was all I needed.

_There was no way in hell I was going to let one of those damn things rip my throat out._

This wasn't the way I had envisioned my life ending. I was almost pissed. If I knew that I only had 30 odd years to be on this planet, I would have skipped college and just spent my time getting drunk and high at parties and fucking every guy that could get a hard-on. Looking back now, all those years of med school were a fucking waste of time and money. Sure, putting humpty back together again was a neat party trick, but it wouldn't do me a lot of good if one of those things got in and sucked out my brains. It was pretty hard to operate on yourself anyway.

I jumped and grabbed my gun as the nano wall dissolved and a familiar face appeared, panicked and just as surprised to see me. "Sam." I breathed in disbelief. "Why the fuck are you still here?"

She looked dazed, but relieved to see me. "Alex!" She smiled. "Carmack told me to stay and retrieve the data from the research, but he is missing. Have you seen him?"

I tossed the gun back on the crash cart next to my chair and plopped down. "Just like him to delegate the dirty work. I hope the zombies got him, it would serve the bastard right."

She seemed upset by my ill will, but she knew I hated him with every fiber in my being. "Why didn't you go?" She asked glancing back at the nano wall just to make sure it was opaque.

"I didn't know we were evacuating." I sighed kicking my feet up on a nearby table. "I was in the OR and the next thing I knew it was just me and the patient. Someone could have told me what the ruckus was for." I lamented.

"What happened to the patient?" She inquired pulling up a stool and sitting next to me.

"Didn't make it." I replied in a low voice. "I was taking him down the hall to the morgue and one of those goddamn things jumped out of nowhere and took a bite out of him right in front of me like it was eating sushi or something." I tried to shake the gruesome image out of my head.

"What do you think they are?" She puzzled. "I haven't seen one, but I saw bodies on the way here."

"Fuck if I know, but I can tell you it wasn't human." I laughed. "I can't imagine what the hell they are or where they came from, but they clearly have a taste for human flesh."

"Well, Carmack called in the Marines. Hopefully they will be here soon." She sighed rubbing her face.

I hadn't been at the facility for more than three months, but Sam Grimm was probably the closest thing I could call a friend. Of all the people that worked there, she was the only one who bothered to introduce herself and tried to get to know me. It helped that her room was down the hall from mine and I found her to be persistent and trustworthy. I also knew she was dedicated to her work at the dig and at first we would discuss the human remains she found, but as time progressed she began to tell me more personal details of her life and for once I didn't find it annoying. There was a pureness about her that I found intriguing.

"Yeah," I mused, "didn't you tell me you had a brother that was in the Marines?" I asked squinting at her.

She chuckled with a faraway look in her eye. "John, my twin."

"I forgot you were a twin." I nodded examining my fingernails. "So it is pretty clear then who got the brains in that batch of baby batter." I smirked at her and she laughed.

"Actually, he is wasting his talent and we fight about it all the time. He is way too smart to be a grunt. It seems we can only civilly converse by one liners in annual birthday cards." She said sadly.

"Hell, at least he sends you one. Being a man, I am surprised he even remembers. But then again I shouldn't give him too much credit since it is the same day as his." I muttered.

"He is actually a nice guy," her smiled faded somewhat, "at least last time I saw him. But that was years ago."

"I bet he is prince fucking charming if his job is carrying a big gun and killing people." I shook my head. "But I shouldn't be too pissy about the military because they keep me in business with a steady stream of fresh bodies to put back together like a jigsaw puzzle."

She laughed and flashed her beautiful smile. "How did you ever get so cynical?"

I glanced up at her and sucked on my bottom lip for a few seconds debating if I should tell her. I was not the kind of person that shared my personal details with anyone because in the end, why should they care that your life was shit from the minute you took your first breath? But, as it seemed I was going to die before dinner… "It comes with practice. Once you see so many bodies blown apart from stupidity and war you stop caring about how it all happened. You can't change the world and you can't change human nature. All I do is patch them up so they can go out and do it all over again. It is a pretty goddamn hopeless situation if you ask me."

She looked at the floor and nodded in agreement. We both snapped to attention when we heard a soft shuffling sound outside of the nano wall. I reached for my gun and suddenly felt bitter about only having one bullet. I didn't want to see Sam get ripped up by those monsters, but I sure as hell wasn't going to be a hero…


	2. Chapter 2 The Cavalry

**Chapter 2- The Cavalry**

The nano wall dissolved into a blurry screen, revealing a hallway filled with men dressed in black and carrying big guns. The one in front quickly noticed the gun in my hand and he waved his enormous weapon in my direction, flashing my eyes with the light attached on the end. "Put the weapon down!" He barked while the others surveyed the room as they entered, guns shouldered and moving in sweeping motions.

"For fuck's sake, man!" I exclaimed shielding my eyes from the light and placing the gun back on the crash cart.

He lowered his weapon and regarded me with a curious expression and the others also stood at ease apparently satisfied that Sam and I were the only occupants, one of them shouting, "Clear, Sarge!"

"Sarge?" I asked mockingly raising my eyebrows.

"That's right." He said tilting his head. "RRTS. Who are you?"

"Dr. Alex Murphy." I replied staring into his dark eyes. "And apparently worth shit because I was left for bait despite being a surgeon. You would think I would be too valuable to waste. "

Sarge smiled and said, "Dr. Murphy, we are on a level 5 lockdown until we can contain the threat. Prep a table in case any of my men need medical attention. Stay here and wait, we will come get you when we evacuate."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You may be the pied piper of your merry band back there, but once you step on this side of the nano wall you are in my kingdom. As the queen of my kingdom, you do not get to tell me how to do my job, capiche Rambo?"

He squinted at me incredulous that I would question his orders. A man behind him with a Miami Vice three day growth going on looked at the floor and pursed his lips so he wouldn't smile. Some of the others didn't even bother. Sarge looked back at them and they quickly resumed their war faces until he turned back to me and they began smiling again. "Dr. Murphy," Sarge began with a tense smile, "we will do everything we can to keep your ass alive if you are willing to give a little quid pro quo."

"Wow." I said in a bored tone. "And I thought you were just a jarhead. But, if you think you can keep those fucking things from coming in here and chewing my face off, I can probably do some pro bono work." I noticed that the whole time I was talking to the leader, Sam's eyes were fixed on Don Johnson. He would occasionally glance at her, but he would always end up looking away.

_Surely that wasn't her brother. They wouldn't send him into this fucking mess knowing she was here, would they?_ _Wasn't that some kind of conflict of interest?_

"And who are you?" Sarge asked Sam in an authoritative tone.

"Dr. Grimm." She answered quietly. "I was left to collect the data."

Sarge quickly turned to the scruffy man, but he didn't look at his boss. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the floor while he sighed deeply.

_Well fuck me, it was him!_

He looked absolutely nothing like Sam, but then again I knew that they were fraternal twins so they shared no more DNA than regular siblings. Sam was a slender blonde while he was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome type. I only caught glimpses of them, but it seemed his eyes were like hers. They also seemed strangely out of place, more haunted than hardened like the others.

"Reaper, take these two and get the data. Kid and Goat- start sweeping the east rooms. Portman and Mac- guard the door. Duke and I will sweep the west. Let's go!" Sarge barked.

I rolled my eyes and got up to follow them. Sam and I were sandwiched between Reaper in the front and Portman to the back. "Hey," Portman whispered to Sam, "whadda say you and I go someplace quiet and…"

Reaper turned with a scowl on his face and growled, "Shut your goddamn mouth before I blow your fucking head off. I really don't need a reason, Portman." He armed his gun with a click for emphasis.

Portman put his hands up in surrender. "Easy, man." He smiled. As soon as Reaper turned around, he licked his lips and whispered, "How 'bout you, sweetheart? I bet you know a lot about the male body."

"I do." I agreed with a snarl. "Enough to know how to rip your balls off with my bare hands so you won't bleed to death. Proposition me again you sick fuck and you will leave here less a man than you came." Behind him, Kid laughed and Portman punched him.

"Shut the fuck up, all of you!" Sarge hissed.

Reaper leaned in close to Sam and whispered, "Where do you have to get your homework?"

"It isn't homework!" She protested into his ear. "I can get it all from the genetics lab."

He nodded and we split from the rest of the group to walk down the hall. Sam and I followed behind her brother while he crept forward, hypervigilant and his gun at the ready. We approached the gurney where I left my patient and he paused for a split second, looking at the bloody remains still partially covered with the sheet just as I had left him. Apparently he decided the corpse was no threat and moved on until we got to the genetics lab. He activated the nano wall and ushered us through while he covered us, letting himself in last. He quickly scanned the room and finally lowered his gun. "Hurry, Sam." He instructed quietly.

"Sure thing, _Reaper_." She said sarcastically, loading a memory chip in the slot to download the information she came for. I took a seat on a nearby table, amused that the fireworks would start so soon.

"Sam." He sighed. "Don't start, ok?" He flung his gun over his shoulder by the strap and leaned on a bench near her.

"Why did you come, John?" She asked typing furiously. "I know how much you hate it here."

"It's my job. Why did you come here?" He replied tersely. "Wasn't the first time enough for you, or do you just enjoy working within a few hundred feet of where our parents were killed and we damn near were?"

She stopped typing and looked up at him. "That was a long time ago, John. I got over it and maybe it is time you do too." Her voice was harsh, but not spiteful. The two engaged in a stare down for perhaps a minute before he looked away, his eyes filled with sadness. She had never told me that she and her brother were orphaned in an accident. And I thought my life sucked…


	3. Chapter 3 Genesis

**Chapter 3- Genesis**

John the Reaper spent the remainder of his time pacing and glancing back and forth between the door and his sister. Once in awhile he would mutter something into the headset that attached to his ear, but for the most part he wore a hole in the metal floor and kept a tight grip on his gun.

"So," I said making casual conversation while Sam worked, "you seem to have some pretty fucked up coworkers. Don't you guys get psych evals before they let you carry around big ass guns?"

He paused and glanced at me for only a second before resuming his pointless journey across the room. "We got them." He replied quietly. "To be on the team you have to epic fail." There was no hint of humor in his voice nor did his expression change. I liked this guy. He saw no point in bullshitting. He was the kind of guy to call a spade a spade and fuck you if you didn't agree.

"So what are those things?" I asked with a serious expression.

He shook his head slowly and said, "I don't know. Nothing I have ever seen before." His eyes were almost hollow and I imagined the horrors he must have witnessed. He had probably been involved in some high level shit and done things the average human couldn't fathom. That was life in the Corps- especially the black ops. "At least we know how to kill them."

"That's always a good thing." I mused.

Behind him, Sam looked so miserable at hearing her brother speak of killing, even if it was flesh eating zombies. I could understand her to a point, but I couldn't help but think she had some pretty fucked up priorities. I was glad he had the balls to plug them full of lead if it meant saving my ass from being devoured.

"Sam," he almost whispered turning to her, "what kind of research were you doing up here?" I would have said he sounded slightly panicked if I didn't think such an instinct had been trained out of him long ago.

"I was examining human remains we found at the dig." She answered innocently. "Well, almost human." She admitted.

He cocked his head and took a step toward her. "What do you mean almost human?" She looked down at his boots and bit her lip. "Sam." He called in a weary voice. "Goddamn it, if you know anything that can help us beat these…things…then you had better say something."

"They were mostly human," she replied looking pleadingly into his eyes, "but they had an extra pair of chromosomes."

He shook his head and squinted. "What, like trisomy 21 Down Syndrome or something?"

"Something like that." She admitted sitting straight up the way she did when she was excited to talk about her discoveries with me. "But it looks like the mutation wasn't harmful in this case. In fact, it may have given the carriers extra abilities."

"Like super strength and speed." He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Possibly, but we don't really know. The extra set of chromosomes were isolated and synthesized, but we had only started mapping it." She explained.

"Sam," he started hesitantly holding one gloved hand out, "is there any chance, even the remotest possibility, that this synthesized DNA was used in live experiments?"

She looked stunned and stammered, "I..I couldn't imagine Dr. Carmack could without someone knowing..."

I snorted. "God knows what that fucktard was capable of."

John looked back at me with his hand still outstretched to Sam. His eyes seemed to be searching for any scrap of evidence he could find to help him put together a working hypothesis, no matter how tenuous. Being wrong was a better proposition that being dead. His head spun back around and this time his voice carried an edge sharper than a ginsu knife. "Sam, this is not the time to fuck with me, I swear. If you hate my fucking guts, that's fine. But there are six other Marines plus God knows how many civilians whose lives are riding on this. This is your last fucking chance to tell me everything you know. You can either spill your guts to me or let one of those goddamn monsters do it for you." She looked as though she were going to cry and John lowered his hand and took another small step toward her to kneel by her knees. "Tell me what you know." He whispered softly looking up at her and placing a hand on her thigh.

"I wasn't supposed to know." She replied in a barely audible voice. "I found out by accident. There were always rumors of experiments, but I didn't believe it." Tears spilled down her cheeks as fast as she could wipe them away. "Then I found a vial of the DNA labeled C24 by Dr. Carmack's computer. When I picked it up, I accidently bumped the monitor and it came on. I watched a live feed of him injecting a person with the same contents from a different vial." She let out a small sob and John gently squeezed her thigh. "It was horrible. He started…I don't know how to describe it…transforming I guess, but his skin looked burned and he grew these huge teeth. He screamed in agony until he didn't even look human anymore. I ran out of his office and never told anyone what I saw."

"Jesus H. Christ." I breathed. "What you described sounds like what I saw take a bite out of my patient."

John stood up with an intense look in his eyes. "That is also what we saw on the way in. But one or two injections can't explain the amount of carnage we are seeing. I don't know how many there are, but it seems like the place is crawling with them. We have to figure out how this…whatever…is spreading and put a stop to it. Sarge!" He yelled into his headset and stalked to the corner of the room to relay what he had learned to his boss.

"Fuck, Sam. Why didn't you report the bastard? That was clearly in violation of ethical codes." I asked shaking my head.

"I was scared." She sniffed, drying her eyes with the hem of her shirt. "I know it was stupid, but my work was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If I went up against Carmack, I could kiss my future goodbye. Jesus." She sighed gesturing vaguely to the ceiling. "I had no idea this was what would come from looking the other way. My career is not worth this."

I jumped down from the table and walked over to her. "Hindsight is 20/20." I reminded her. "There was no way you could have known what exactly Carmack was doing. Put the blame where it belongs; this is his grade A fuck up and he isn't even around to own it. Not that he would, the jackass." I mumbled. "He left us both here to die. We just have to make sure that doesn't happen." She smiled through her tears and held my hands tightly. Although it made me uncomfortable, I knew she found strength in it and we needed all we could get.

"Dr. Murphy." Reaper whispered into my ear. He was standing so close I could feel his breath on my neck when he spoke.

"Jesus fucking Christ, man! Don't sneak up on me like that!" I exclaimed with a jump.

His expression was absolutely blank. He wasn't about to apologize for being so stealthy and I almost shuddered imagining him sneaking up on someone, slitting their throat and skipping away all in absolute silence like some fucking ninja. I watched his Adam's apple slide in his throat as he swallowed before he spoke. "If I can get you a sample from one of those things, can you analyze it for any clues as to mode of infection?"

I blinked slowly. "I am a surgeon, not a fucking epidemiologist. The only information I could give you is what part of the body you carved the sample from."

_Obviously Sam's estimation of your intelligence is slightly biased._

"I can." Sam spoke up. "I probably can't give you an exact strain, but I can get you in the ballpark."

His iridescent green eyes fell on her and he nodded at his sister. "Sarge and Kid have a fresh kill in their sector. I will take you two back to the med lab and go get what you need." He glanced at me briefly before deftly swinging his gun into position against his shoulder. "Grab your gear and let's go." He ordered.

Sam and I followed behind much the same way we entered. He was at the front, checking for any sign of the baddies while we tagged along until we safely reached the med lab. He filled the pouches in his flack jacket with needles, surgical instruments, and specimen vials. "Here." He said pulling a pistol from yet another pocket on his right thigh and placing it on the crash cart by mine. "Just in case they figure out how to open the nano wall. One shot in the heart and one in the head." He illustrated by pointing to each location. "I will be back as quick as I can."


	4. Chapter 4 Cat Chat

**Chapter 4- Cat Chat**

Sam and I sat staring at each other for a few minutes until the fear of the possibility of a zombie invasion seemed remote. Finally, she nodded to the gun her brother had left behind. "You can have that. I'm not touching it." I picked it up and looked it over. It was somewhat larger and heavier than mine, but most importantly it had a full clip. I couldn't deny it had a pretty big 'oh shit' factor that clearly distinguished it from a fancy cigarette lighter.

_Was I fucked up to think that handling his gun was kinda erotic?_

"I guess he is a nice guy after all." I commented putting it down begrudgingly least she see my obsession for what it was.

She smiled softly and a light sparked in her eyes. "He has changed a lot since the last time I saw him, but deep down he is the same John I grew up with."

"Guess all of the raping and pillaging hasn't gotten to him, then." I yawned. Sam looked horrified, causing me to add, "Not that he would…I mean…ah fuck it. You know what I mean."

She chuckled, causing a lock of her blonde hair to sway. "I do know what you mean." She admitted. "I worry that the more time he spends in this job the more of himself he will lose. He used to be so empathetic and warm, but now I look into his eyes and I see nothing."

"So maybe he should have been a guidance counselor," I shrugged, "we all make mistakes. I have to say, though, he is one fine piece of ass." Her face turned red and I continued. "In a scruffy, manly, big ass gun toting kind of way. I am sure it is probably just the uniform, though. Still, I would like to see him out of uniform to see what that huge gun is compensating for…"

"Stop!" She laughed waving her hands. "I can't go there with you. He is my baby brother, that is gross."

"Please!" I smirked. "Don't think for a second his sex starved buddies aren't giving him the same shit. Besides, he sure as hell isn't my brother and that makes him fair game. Unless, of course, he swings the other way."

She shook her head and emphatically stated, "He does not 'swing the other way' as you put it."

I shrugged feigning impartiality. "You don't know, Sam. You said yourself you haven't seen him in a long time, the two of you barely talk, and he seems to have changed. You know that he sleeps in a room full of other men most of the time." I raised my eyebrows and shrugged again. "All I am saying is it might be an opportunistic kind of thing like a prison. Maybe it is an 'I'm not gay but my boyfriend is' kind of relationship. Think about it." I baited. "I know things have changed, but he is still a big, tough Marine. Do you think he would be a top or bottom boy?" I asked laughing.

"Neither!" She answered, her face blazing red with embarrassment. "I mean, I don't think he has a problem with it, it just isn't something he is into."

"Does he have a wife?" I asked again putting my feet up on the bed.

"He has never been married." She replied returning to her normal color.

"Does he have a girlfriend back home?" I continued.

"No," she sighed, "not since he joined the Marines a few years ago."

"A favorite hooker? The girl down the street that never says no if she is drunk?" I pressed. Sam looked at me somewhat shocked. "Hmmm." I proclaimed with a smug look. "That leaves only two possibilities: he is gay or he is a priest who has taken a vow of celibacy. If that is the case, I think God would be less offended by the occasional fuck than with all the murder business."

She looked at me and shook her head. "What is wrong with you that you always think the worst of people?"

"Sweetheart," I said flatly, "you need to get your head out of the sand and realize that your sweet, innocent baby brother kills people for a living. He has probably killed hundreds by now. I am just being real about that fact that he has probably looked people in the eye and then painted the wall with their brains so many times that he could do it over breakfast and finish his plate. It has most likely become a reflex for him, he doesn't even have to think about it. But you know what? Right now that killer mentality might just get us out of here alive, so I don't hate him for it. I am damn glad he is good at what he does. Maybe it is time that you stop putting him on a goddamn pedestal and idolizing him for what he was and get down on your knees and kiss his bloody boots for what he is."

Tears welled up in her eyes again as she vehemently hissed, "You don't know him and you don't know me."

"No, I don't." I conceded. "But what I do know is that he as well as the others are our meal ticket out of here. If that means I have to lower myself to kiss their asses for the time being in order to get off this shit ball of a planet, then so be it." She huffed and squinted at me in disbelief. "Hey, I am just being pragmatic." I shrugged. "Sorry if I knocked your rose colored glasses askew."

We ignored each other for a few minutes until she fished in her pocket and removed the memory chips she had downloaded and busied herself on a computer. There were probably things that I could be doing as well, but I didn't feel like getting up. Fuck it.

I must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I knew, people were shouting and Sarge was dragging Reaper along the hall toward the now transparent nano wall, leaving behind a trail of bright red blood.


	5. Chapter 5 How to Save a Life

**Chapter 5- How to Save a Life**

"What the fuck?" I asked leaping from my chair as Sarge dropped his load to the ground in a pale heap.

Sarge's face was a mask of laser focused intensity. "That goddamn thing we killed somehow miraculously came back to life while he was getting the samples and it fucking bit him in the thigh! How the fuck does something like that happen? When you kill something, it is dead!" He fished into his flack jacket and tossed Sam a vial of what looked like partially coagulated blood. "Get on that and tell me what the fuck we are dealing with!" She looked at the vial and then to her brother who was barely clinging to consciousness and bleeding heavily. "That was an order!" He barked. She jumped, but went back to the counter that held the microscopes.

"Help me with him." I said to Sarge as I kneeled down beside Reaper. He was starting to look like Death himself. "Get his flack jacket off." Sarge quickly pulled several Velcro straps loose and together we shimmied the heavy Kevlar vest off. "Now help me get him on the table." It was a struggle and Sarge did most of the heavy lifting, but we got the job done.

I wheeled over a crash cart and quickly put on rubber gloves before tearing the fabric of his pants to get a better look at the bite wound. There were several small puncture wounds surrounding a larger gash that oozed wells of bright red blood in intervals suspiciously in tune with a human heartbeat.

_Fuck me. He is one unlucky bastard to have his femoral artery ripped up. This does not look good._

Sarge hovered nervously by Reaper's head and told him, "You do not get to die unless I tell you to. You do not have permission to die, do you hear me?"

Reaper's unfocused eyes blinked lazily as he weakly replied, "Ooorah."

Sarge slapped him on the side of the face, evoking a startle response that cleared his hazy green eyes momentarily. "Semper Fi, soldier." He said looking down at him with a scowl.

Reaper smiled faintly, but I noticed the ashen color of his skin as well as the tremors that began to make him jerk almost uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness.

_Fuck! I have to move fast or else I will lose him._

"Sam!" I yelled using spreaders to wrench open the wound so I could clamp the bleed. "Do you know what his blood type is?"

"Uh…I think he is type A, but I am not certain." She responded looking up from her microscope where she frantically searched for any information that might be useful in saving her brother's life.

"Sarge! Get into the cabinet behind you and get two bags of type O and IV lines out of the drawer below. Check the labels and make sure they are O!" I commanded working furiously to stop the bleeding. "Do you know how to start a line?" I asked while he dutifully read the labels.

"No." He answered returning to the table with the supplies. "Fucking Reaper was more or less the medic on the team. Goddamn you!" he growled to the unconscious man.

"I know how." Sam volunteered scurrying to her brother's side and taking the supplies from Sarge.

"Good." I said through pursed lips, gathering sutures and putting on my magnifying glasses to better see the artery in detail. "Remember to shake the bags before you hang them. We have to get his BP up before he goes into cardiac arrest. Sarge, while she is doing that, hook him up to the machines. Put the white O2 clip on the end of one of his fingers. Do you know where to put chest leads?"

"Got it." He growled. I could hear the sound of a zipper being undone along with the popping of exploding buttons. I assumed Sarge had ripped his shirt open to expose his chest. It was an impressively short period of time before I heard the familiar sound of the heart rate machine, but the rhythm was disturbingly slow.

"What does it say?" I asked taking stock of the damaged artery. It wasn't the worst I had seen, but he was going to be touch and go for awhile. That was assuming I could get him stabilized in the first place.

"BP is 82/49 and pulse is 37." Sarge reported.

_Shit._

"Keep an eye on it and let me know if it changes." I ordered. "How is his breathing?"

There was a slight pause before Sarge replied, "Seems a little shallow…maybe."

"Just make sure he keeps it up. I hope one of you two are comfortable with giving him mouth to mouth if he stops." I stated carefully making my first stitch. "I can't intubate him and I can't walk you through it." A silence fell that was irritating. "Goddamn it! I don't care which one of you does it and I doubt he will either! I can't save him by myself."

"Alright." Sarge said clearing his throat. "I will." I smiled as he again addressed an unresponsive Reaper. "You had damn well not stop. If you do, I will resuscitate you just so I can kill you myself."

"How are the lines coming, Sam?" I asked slowly closing the hole in the delicate tissue. Although time was of the essence, you couldn't rush sutures. One sloppy stitch and the whole thing would blow apart the moment you released the clamp…

"Done." She declared. "The switches are fully open."

"Good news." I encouraged. "Sarge, get in the top drawer of the cart and get the thermometer to take his temp. Stick it in his ear, push the button on top and wait for it to beep. Sam, do you know if he is allergic to any medications?"

"No, he isn't." She answered shortly.

"I want you to go to the med cabinet to the left of where you were. My code is 247." I heard her almost run and punch in the code to unlock the door. "The vials are in alphabetical order. I want you to get the following: Cipro, Demerol, and Heparin. Grab a handful of needles from the tray on the counter."

"His temp is 95.3" Sarge interjected.

"A little cooler than we like." I said casually. "Look in the storage room to your right and you will find a blanket that looks like tinfoil. Get it and plug it in to the base of the table. Crank it all the way up and cover him with it." I instructed. "Sam, I want you to draw up the meds. Remember to keep the needles straight for Christ sake, I wouldn't like to think we worked this hard just to OD him on the wrong thing because of a fuck up. I want 400mg of Cipro, 200mg of Demerol and 100ml of Heparin. When you are done, bring the Cipro and Heparin over here and inject them into one of his ports."

Sarge was busy spreading the blanket over Reaper and smoothing it out, careful to tuck the edges away from where I was working. The coils in the blanket glowed an eerie red, letting me know it was indeed heating rather than cooling. "What do the drugs do, Doc?" He asked stepping aside to let Sam through.

I inspected the artery to make sure I didn't leave any gaps as I absentmindedly replied, "Cipro is a bad ass wide spectrum antibiotic that kills damn near everything. God knows what kind of bacteria those things have in their mouths. The Heparin is an anticoagulant- important when you are fucking around with the vascular system. It would suck to have him survive the surgery only to die of a pulmonary embolism. And the Demerol is a heavy duty painkiller. I don't care if he is a Marine, he won't be able to hack it when he wakes up. Unfortunately, I can't give it to him until his BP comes up."

I sighed, satisfied that the sutures were tight enough and close enough together to prevent a rupture. "Cross your fingers and pray to the deity of your choice, folks. Be forewarned that his BP will drop, but hopefully it will recover quickly." I said slowly releasing the clamp and holding my breath as the blood began to course through the repaired vessel. I watched closely for any sign of leakage or weakness, but saw nothing other than the slow and steady pattern of swelling and contraction that matched the beeping of the heart monitor.

I took a step back and rolled my head around in an effort to loosen the cramped muscles that felt like taught rubber bands before again approaching to close the wound and sterilize it. "Good job, team." I complimented. I glanced at the monitors and was relieved to see that his blood pressure had improved, although it was a far cry from what it should be. I also noted that both blood bags were empty. "Sam, your brother needs refills." I told her nodding toward them. "He is apparently very thirsty. Sarge, take his temp again."

"Make sure the labels say O." Sarge reminded her as he inserted the device in Reaper's ear and read it. "96.7."

I nodded and placed my hand on his arm under the blanket and was relieved that the tremors had subsided. I tried to sew quickly; muscle tissue and skin need not be so delicate. His BP was on a steady march north which was a good sign, but it also meant he would soon wake up and then the fun would start.

"Sam, give him half a dose of the Demerol. I don't want to take any chances." I requested, snipping the thread above the knots I had just tied. He would have a pretty scar to be sure, but one look at the exposed flesh of his chest suggested that it would not be anything new to him.

When I was finished closing and dressing the wound, I took a moment to stop and stretch. I had been awake for what felt like days. I removed my bloody gloves and walked back to the table to fish his hand out from under the blanket. I pressed on the nail of his middle finger and watched as the white patch quickly turned pink. I then moved to his feet where I methodically unlaced his combat boot enough to wiggle my fingers in to feel his pulse by his ankle. It seemed his circulation was adequate. I just hoped the drugs would prevent any clots from forming. He really couldn't afford complications now.

"Will he survive, Doc?" Sarge asked leaning on the table next to his stricken comrade looking incredibly weary. He was used to blowing people apart. Putting them back together was much more work.

"All things being equal, I think he will." I answered looking at his still peaked complexion. The dark stubble on his cheeks stood out all the more in contrast, but his face was relaxed and I hoped that he was in a deep and dreamless sleep far away from Olduvai. "Just don't send me anymore." I pleaded.

"Shouldn't be a problem." He replied slinging his gun over his shoulder and activating the nano wall to leave. "I think we are the only two left."


	6. Chapter 6 Complications

**Chapter 6- Complications **

Sam hovered over the still body of her brother and placed her hand on his chest under the blanket as though she couldn't trust the monitor that beeped with every heart beat. I went to the far side of the room to give her at least some semblance of privacy. Her eyes looked over him sympathetically and her mouth moved in silent utterances that he couldn't hear. She was right, I didn't know her. But what was clear in that moment was that despite whatever falling out they had, she believed that his was a life worth saving and she had tried as best she could to help him survive. We all did.

_Now you have to do your part, pal._

I approached only when she looked up at me, her eyes dark with fatigue and worry. "I know you have never been one to lie to me." She stated in a shaky voice. "Don't lie to me now. Is he going to die?"

I hated this part of the job. I didn't have a fucking crystal ball with which to give any kind of certainty. The odds were tipped in his favor because he was still relatively young and in good overall health, but that was no guarantee of anything. He could stroke out and die on the table in the next five minutes or he could recover and die of old age at 95. They don't teach you how to read tea leaves in med school, yet everyone thinks you are some kind of goddamn precog. "I don't know." I admitted in a steely voice. "If things stay as they are, he will probably make it. But any number of things can happen. Sam, I am not going to bullshit you. He will need at least a couple of days to heal well enough to even stand up. With whatever goddamn things are out there, that is time we don't have. As of right now he will probably die if we try to transport him to the Ark. Fuck trying to actually get him to go through."

Her face hardened somewhat as if that was the answer she was expecting. Still, there was a sense of strength and determination behind her eyes that told me she would give anything to keep him safe and alive and I believed it. "I am not leaving him here." She told me through clenched teeth. "He would never leave me behind."

I sighed and leaned on the table over him. I really didn't want to think about this, but we had to be clear and unflinching in times like these. "Sam," I began in a serious tone, "if it comes down to it and one of those fucking things gets in and we can't save him…" I glanced up at her blazing eyes, "I can give him a massive dose of morphine and he will go quickly. He won't feel a thing."

She shook her head vigorously, not wanting to think about the possibility. "He is walking out of here with us." She spat.

I admired her fierce devotion to him even if it was a bit delusional. "That would be the optimal situation, Sam, but think rationally for a moment. If the monsters get to him he will be a sitting duck. They will eat him alive, literally. The least we can do for him is give him a merciful exit, but if you would rather know that he died like a fucking dog as the main course of a feeding frenzy, that is your call."

She looked down at him and straightened a length of IV tubing that had become twisted. "We are not going to kill him." She said quietly. "We won't have to. I have to get back to that sample. It has answers to this nightmare and I have to find them."

I gently nodded as she resumed her place in front of the microscope with a renewed sense of purpose and urgency. I yawned and rubbed my face vigorously. This was no time to be sleepy, not when the life of another depended on you and flesh eating zombies roamed the halls. I busied myself with nonessential tasks like cleaning his hands and face of the dried blood that caked them. He had some superficial lacerations, but nothing serious.

I furrowed my brow at the sheer number of old wounds that had healed. It looked like he had been tied to a post and used for bayonet practice. Flecks of darker pink scar tissue dotted areas where his flack jacket didn't quite cover, but overall it looked as though he had received prompt medical attention in every case. However, that was typical of the military to provide maintenance for their assets. I bet if I turned him over I would see a tattoo that read 'property of USMC'. They had a great amount of vested interest in keeping him functional. He was simply too valuable to lose given the amount of time and money they had put into training him to be a highly skilled killer.

I shuddered remembering the way he somehow managed to sneak up behind me in combat boots on a metal floor. Christ, did they teach him how to levitate too? I wheeled a stool over to his bed and sat, leaning against it. There was nothing more I could do other than wait on him…

"I can't believe it!" Sam nearly shouted as I woke up startled. I didn't know how long I had been out, but I did feel slightly refreshed. Then again, it could have just been the shock of adrenaline that ran through my body at her excitement.

"Can't believe what?" I asked stretching.

Her eyes were wide with wonder that immediately caught my attention. "I sequenced the DNA from the sample with a known sample of the remains I found." She breathed. "They both have the second set of chromosomes, but they are slightly different."

"I am no fucking geneticist, Sam. But even I know that it wouldn't be unusual to find variation between two individuals." I muttered checking on Reaper. Yep, still unconscious.

"Yes, but not like this." She countered crossing the room to show me her data. "In the monster, the telomeres of the chromosomes are shorter and seem to replicate at a faster rate than the human from the dig." I looked at the image of alternating dark and light bands of two distinctly different looking rods.

_Should have paid closer attention in class. But hell, I didn't see what it had to do with surgery…dumbass. _

"So…" I monotoned with a raised eyebrow.

"So the C24 in the monsters somehow becomes unstable. That is what I saw in Carmack's office! The person he injected it into may have had some kind of predisposition or metabolic factor that mutated the C24 and he became one of them." She shook her paper in my direction and exclaimed, "But not everyone does. We both know that it is possible to transmit DNA material through fluid contact. Maybe that is how it is spreading!"

I subconsciously glanced at Reaper's placid face. If she was right, then he may have been exposed to whatever the hell it was that was making people into monsters. A bite hard enough to sink the teeth deep enough to sever an artery would certainly have provided close contact with the mouth and saliva would have easily penetrated the wound, transmitting the mutant DNA. "Sam." I whispered still looking at him. The closer I looked, the more I noticed the faint red patches that pooled just beneath his skin.

She looked at me and then to her brother as she began to realize the gravity of the moment. "You don't think…" She stammered instinctively reaching out to him as though she could stop the spread of the infection through sheer will.

"I don't know what kind of incubation period we are talking about here." I swallowed. "It could be hours. If so, he is going to start growing huge teeth and we will be absolutely fucked." If he somehow retained his training as killer when he transformed, we were doubly fucked when his skill combined with his newly acquired enhanced speed and strength. I looked at his gun still resting on the cart and wondered if that would be enough to put him down.

_One shot to the heart and one to the head._

I didn't want Sam to witness me murder her brother, even if he was a zombie. Of course I would still do it, of that there was no question, but I never thought of myself as a killer. I saved lives, I didn't take them. This was some seriously fucked up shit and all I could do was be angry at the dumb fucks that sent me here. If only I had stopped for a coffee, somehow delayed my arrival at the hospital by only five minutes some other poor shmuck would be standing here now contemplating assassination while I was at home sipping merlot by the fireplace.

_Goddamn karma bites me in the ass again._

"The only way we will know is for you to crack the code of that DNA." I sighed taking his temperature again. I looked quizzically at the readout. That couldn't be right. I took it a second time and began to wonder if Sarge somehow broke the thermometer, the goddamn brute. "102.4" I muttered. He had somehow skyrocketed from slightly hypothermic to having a fever in a shorter than possible time. I removed the heating blanket and observed the red splotches that were scattered across his chest. "Damn it, Sam. Are you sure he isn't allergic to anything?" I growled.

"Positive." She called from her hunched position over the scope. "He spent enough time in the doctor's office growing up. I think he has had shots of just about everything at some point or another."

"Was he a sick kid?" I asked amazed that his blood pressure had returned to normal and continued to climb.

"No." She laughed adjusting the resolution to better see the sample. "He was kind of clumsy and very unlucky. His coordination has improved a lot since then, but I can't say the same for his luck."

"Maybe I should implant a horseshoe in his ass." I suggested drawing up a full dose of Demerol. If he was going to turn into a freak, I would keep him unconscious as long as I could.

I was distracted by Sam's heavy sigh. She looked at me with that same steely determination and I could do nothing but stand there with a half filled syringe and vial in my hand in shock. I was no fucking mind reader, but I could tell that a drastic change had overcome her and whatever she had planned was going to be dubious at best.

She looked back at her brother, now looking like he had run through a strawberry patch, and then to me. She seemed hopeless and resigned. "I can't possibly get this figured out in time to save him." She lamented.

I swallowed lightly and glanced at the vial in my hand, wondering if I should just triple the dose now. "So what do you want to do?" I asked softly. I had never purposely OD'd anyone in my career, but it seemed the only humane thing to do given the situation. A quiet and peaceful death with his boss's face the last thing he saw seemed better than the hell he faced if we did nothing. Of course if I was completely honest with myself, I had to admit that my mercy was just a little self serving. I wasn't going to let him tear me apart no matter how much I may have fantasized about fucking him before I died. I really hated myself sometimes.

"It is a long shot," She said looking back at him pitifully, "but I have an idea that just might work."

"And that is…?" I prompted. "For fuck's sake, Sam. We don't have time to play charades here."

"C24." She said simply.

I batted my eyes and dropped the Demerol on the cart in disbelief. "You want to inject him with the shit Carmack was working on?" I howled. "You saw what the result of that was! He is already turning into one of those bastards. If he isn't allergic to any of the meds, that is the only explanation for his symptoms. If he is already infected, I don't see how giving him more would be helpful."

"I don't know that it would be." She admitted. "But the C24 in Carmack's office may be more pure and concentrated than what he was exposed to."

"Great!" I exclaimed throwing my hands in the air. "If he is only partially infected, give him the jet fuel version! Fuck, Sam!" I let my hands fall to my sides in desperation. "Look, I can't stop you if this is what you want to do, but I am telling you that if any of his teeth grow a single millimeter, I am blowing his fucking head off no questions asked."

"But you said that the morphine…" She stated before I cut her off.

"The morphine works on humans. God knows how his physiology will change after you shoot him up with Carmack's snake oil. He told us that the only way to kill him was to shoot him and I am willing to take it as gospel." I replied grabbing his gun off the cart and removing the safety. The metal felt cool to the touch and the weight dangling from my hand was reassuring in a bizarre way.

_His gun._

It was sick the way I felt a connection to the man that lay unresponsive on the table when I held a weapon that caused the very injuries I fought to correct. Hell, I had my hands deep inside the man's flesh and yet that never seemed as intimate as what they now held.

_Being here has seriously fucked me up._

"I am going to get the vial from Carmack's office." She stated activating the nano wall. "You stay here and take care of him until I get back." I didn't know what the hell she expected me to do, but I took a seat on the stool by his bed as if my proximity would magically make everything ok.

After she had left, I turned the gun in my hands and noticed "Reaper" inscribed on the bottom of the clip. It was funny how even though he was unconscious, it was like he was still somehow able to protect us. I looked back at him and watched him breathe. He was much stronger now than he was even an hour ago. I just hoped he could hold on a little while longer until his sister returned to inject him with fucktard's mutant concoction. I had no idea what was about to happen other than the certainty that I would use his own gun against him should he threaten my survival. Because in the end, that was all that really mattered.


	7. Chapter 7 Plan B

**Chapter 7- Plan B**

I sat leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, staring at the gun in my hands. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable with who I had become in the last few hours. I had never been a warm and fuzzy person, but the almost primal regression that had taken place was somewhat repulsive. I was just short of a fucking savage. Of course all along I told myself that facing the harsh truth of my circumstances was the only logical thing to do, but some of the conclusions that felt justified seemed so wrong.

It didn't seem right that I had spent so much time and effort in saving Reaper only to fondle his gun and wait for an excuse to use it. Why did I save him in the first place instead of just letting him bleed out on the floor when I knew that he would need a prolonged period of recovery that we simply didn't have? It seemed I had spared him from one death only to expose him to another possibly more horrific fate.

But that was the way of medicine. I saved him because I could. Doctors are trained to have tunnel vision, it is in our very vocabulary: life over limb they say in surgery. We are so hell-bent on saving a life without giving a flying fuck about what that might mean further down the road. The moment you live in is the only one that matters.

_Pretty fucking hopeless situation if you ask me._

Add to this the power of God that we hold. In very real terms we get to decide who lives and dies by deciding to what lengths we are willing to go in any given situation. Sometimes we decide that we will do whatever possible to save a victim suffering from third degree burns although the person may end up being a quadruple amputee and horribly disfigured. But hey, they made it. And then there are times like this morning when my patient died because the absolute truth was I gave up on him. I decided that further intervention would not be helpful and I let him die on the table in front of me.

_Who the hell was I to decide his life wasn't worth the effort?!_

I looked back at Reaper and was pleased to see that he was regaining some color in his face. Lucky for him, his patron saint decided he was worth the effort and here we are. But did I really do him any favors? I still couldn't help but think that the humane thing to do may have been to let him bleed to death. He was so close when Sarge drug him in, it wouldn't have taken more than a minute and a half for him to expire. He would have felt cold as his body heat rapidly dissipated without adequate blood pressure, but his dying, blood starved brain would have sent out one final burst of endorphins that would hopefully allow him to face his doom without fear. He may have even felt slightly euphoric, but at the very least he would have been confused as the neurons in his brain would begin to misfire and die of lack of nutrients. It wasn't the worst possible way to go.

I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes when his head began to loll and he made small groaning noises. I put the gun down on the cart and stood by his head, but made sure it was still within reach just in case… I watched as his eyelids fluttered before opening to reveal his green irises. It was clear from looking at them that he felt groggy from the painkiller, but he was starting to notice the flood of pain emanating from his thigh and he squinted.

"Welcome back, soldier." I said sarcastically. "Ready to go sleepy again?" I retrieved the syringe of Demerol I had filled earlier while arguing with Sam. He rolled his head lazily in my direction and tried hard to focus his eyes. I actually laughed when I realized he was trying to read the label on the vial. "Demerol." I told him as I approached his side.

He tried to pick up his head and look around the room, but in the end he let it fall back with an exhausted thud. "No." He sighed eyeing the needle. "Makes me itch like hell." He began to squirm as though speaking the words suddenly made him aware that it felt like he was being eaten by fire ants.

I smiled wryly, capping the needle. "And your sister swore up and down that you weren't allergic to anything."

"Sam." He breathed trying to look for her while I was filling yet another needle with Benadryl to stop the allergic reaction.

"She stepped out for a minute." I told him carefully inserting the needle into one of the smaller ports of the IV line near his arm. "This should make the itching stop in a few minutes." When I was finished, I removed the lines from his arms and threw away the empty blood bags that hung over his head. "You were one thirsty boy," I commented, "we drained four pints into you. Amazing that you lost just a little under half of your total blood volume and yet here you are."

He looked blankly at me as though he didn't really know what to make of that fact. "Just lucky, I guess." He muttered struggling to lift himself up to rest on his elbows.

"That's not what Sam told me." I smirked while raising the head of the bed so he could recline more or less in a sitting position. "She said you have shit for luck and if being munched on by a previously deceased monster doesn't count then I don't know what the hell does." I gave him sharp slap on the wrist when I caught him poking at the bandages on his thigh. "Keep your goddamn fingers out of there before you ruin my handiwork." I scowled. "Not that I don't enjoy a good amputation now and then…"

He regarded me for a moment before quickly looking away. "Where are the others?" His eyes squeezed shut in agony as he tried to reposition himself and he sharply exhaled, "Where did Sam go?"

"Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?" I asked. "You have nothing to prove to me, you know. I get it, you are a bad ass roughneck Marine. Duly noted."

He glanced at me with his haunted eyes and replied, "Maybe if the situation was different, but I am no good to you or anyone else if I am flat on my back in a drug induced coma. Besides, I have had worse."

"Have you?" I laughed mockingly. "Did you have your brain sucked out through your ear canal or something? I don't know if you are aware of the fact that you were a shallow breath away from dying of blood loss from a lacerated femoral artery. Sarge told me you are the team medic. Assuming you are up to speed on your anatomy, ruptured arteries equal very bad. So if you think for one second that you will just leap off that table when duty calls, you are sadly mistaken my friend."

He sighed and stared at me for just a moment. "Where did Sam go?" He repeated in an even voice that demanded an answer.

"John!" Sam cried from the nano wall. Her face exploded in a smile so wide I thought her lips would split. She ran to her brother and wrapped him in a hug that nearly smothered him, but I didn't interfere. "I was so worried." She confessed releasing him and sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding her hand along the side of his face.

He looked into her eyes, but looked away when he said, "I am glad to see you are safe, Sam." Maintaining eye contact was obviously not his forte.

The nano wall dissolved again and we all turned to see Sarge with what I swore looked like panic in his wide eyes. Somewhere along the way he managed to acquire an even larger weapon. "That is one big fucking gun." I observed.

"Yeah," He agreed out of breath, "but it won't do shit to stop the goddamn zombie army that is after us. We have no choice but to cut and run. Pack it up everybody; we are making a run for the Ark."

I looked nervously at Sam and John. "Sarge," I said in a low voice, "Reaper won't make it. If he stands up or God forbid tries to run his stitches will tear loose and he will bleed out, likely for good this time."

Sarge looked at me and clenched his jaw while he contemplated the prognosis. "Reaper!" He bellowed. "You can go with us or you can stay here. You will likely die either way."

He turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed while he removed the chest leads. "If I have to die, I would rather do it running than laying down." He answered, his green eyes burning with determination.

"Ooorah." Sarge smiled.


	8. Chapter 8 Semper Fi

**Chapter 8- Semper Fi**

I couldn't help but think that this was the very definition of insanity. To be completely honest, and when you are staring certain death in the face there is no better time for it, Sarge was the only bastard out of the lot of us who had any realistic chance of actually making it to the Ark alive. I estimated that Reaper had approximately 5 minutes left on his clock before the inevitable happened, and that was assuming he never had to break a slow waddle. Sam was too much a fucking tree huger to save her own damn neck and I knew she would rather die squatting next to Reaper than leave him for the good of the group. And although I had an iron clad will to survive, I was no trained soldier and I doubted I would be able to quickly and efficiently kill those things like a high speed shooting gallery.

I picked up Reaper's gun and along with Sam helped him stand up. I knew for a fact the damaged nerves around the wound would have burned like napalm and the pulling sensation of the thread that held his tissue together would have been nauseating, but his face only reflected a tight tension and focus for the gauntlet that lie ahead. He hobbled over to the corner where Sarge had tossed his discarded flack jacket and rather large gun and strapped them on, turning to Sarge for his final orders.

Sarge tightly nodded at him and said, "We will move out single file. Reaper, you take the rear and don't go any faster than you are able. We will hang with you, even if it means being exposed a little longer." He looked at the gun in my hand and removed his own from his pocket to give to Sam. "Follow what Reaper and I do, and if you need to fire them, remember to squeeze the trigger- don't pull it. You will fuck up your aim and end up shooting one of us instead. We will remain as quiet as possible. If you have to talk, whisper. Any questions?" He looked at Sam and I intensely, but I couldn't think of anything at the moment. "Alright then. Men, on me!"

I looked back at Sam who was staring at the gun she held as though it were a live snake. "For fuck's sake, Sam." I hissed, taking Sarge's gun and removing the safety. "You have to arm it before you can use it. That would have been a huge disappointment when one of those damn monsters got in your face and nothing happened when you pulled the trigger." She took the gun back and looked into my eyes with such anxiety; it reflected the fear I was too afraid to admit even to myself. "I know, Sam." I whispered, "I don't want to do this either, but we have to because it is our only chance. You have to so you can help your brother, he's not going to make it without you." She regained that look of sheer determination she had when she was over Reaper's body- it looked like she got her wish of him walking out with us.

"No, Sam." He said from behind her. "Hold your gun like this." He demonstrated by taking her gun and holding his arms at full length with the gun pointed at the ground. "Don't aim at anything you don't intend to kill. Accidents happen and if you aren't careful, you can blow a hole through the man in front of you." He gave the gun back and suddenly I wanted to switch places so she would be behind Sarge. At least he was wearing a goddamn Kevlar vest to protect him from 'accidents'.

Sarge activated the nano wall and it felt a little like a gladiator being thrown into the arena with live lions. We knew the zombies were out there, but were never quite sure when or where they may attack. Sarge slowly stalked down the hallway with his gun raised, sweeping from left to right while Sam and I followed with our guns in the position Reaper had suggested and he was doing the same as Sarge, just in the direction we had come. If it was painful for him to walk, he wasn't showing it other than a limp which couldn't be avoided. I took a quick look back and was relieved that the bandages that covered the wound were still snow white. The moment they began to turn red, it would be game over for him.

I almost screamed when I heard a massive booming sound directly in back of me. Reaper had fired his weapon and the noise was unimaginable as it resonated off the metal walls of the hallway. Sarge turned briefly, but resumed his forward stance. Reaper took a few paces back where one of the zombies laid on the ground, growling at him and clutching at his boot. He had apparently shot it, but it was far from dead. It was simply hideous. It barely resembled a human and the teeth in it's face were jagged and just plain evil. To think those were what was embedded in his thigh gave me the chills.

He looked down at the damned creature with no sense of pity or hatred. His face reflected nothing as he positioned his weapon and fired two more thunderous shots in quick succession: one to the heart and the final to the head. Blood and tissue sprayed up on his clothing and across the walls, but he didn't seem to notice. He lingered a moment longer to ensure it was actually dead before rejoining us to resume the forward march to the Ark.

Even in the limited light, I could see that Sam had gone pale. Up until now, her brother's occupation could be relegated to the realm of the abstract. She could always push it to the back of her mind because she had no real concept of what he did. But now the comfort of illusion was shattered. She had actually watched him take a life, even if it couldn't technically be considered human. He couldn't bear to look at her when he returned. His haunted green eyes hovered somewhere around her knees and the air was heavy with a palpable sense of weary remorse until Sarge commanded everyone to continue.

After the monstrous boom of Reaper's gun, the hall was eerily silent save the shuffling of our footsteps. We were nearly to the Ark, could it possibly be this fucking easy? Aside from the zombie that Reaper shot, we saw nothing except for the bloated and half eaten corpses of the employees that had perished before Sarge and his group showed up. The stench was ungodly.

Sam grabbed my sleeve and I looked back to see Reaper leaning against the wall, his gun barely in position. I in turn reached out and took hold of Sarge's pants to let him know that we had stopped. I bit my lip when I looked at his bandages and saw an angry red patch forming. This was it and by the look on his face, Reaper knew it as well. Sam went to him while Sarge regarded his last remaining team member with a quiet passivity. He didn't want him to die, but there was nothing anyone could do for him now. Even if we all carried him to the Ark, he would be dead before he got to the other side. The physical stress would just be too much for him to endure in his weakened state. Sarge was a man who was used to tough choices in the heat of battle, but now he was torn between staying with John just a little longer and turning his back on him to let him die in the hall. Every second we waited was another second we were exposed and vulnerable to attack.

"Reaper." He whispered.

John looked at him with heavy eyes. His breaths were becoming ragged and seemed to require more effort than before as his very life force seeped out with the blood that now dripped from the bandages. Although he was growing weaker, he remained determined. "Go." He commanded. "I can cover you from here. Get to the Ark."

"I can't leave you here." Sam pleaded. "You can make it! I can help you."

He smiled softly at his sister. "Not this time, Sam. This is it for me, but it's ok. Getting to see you one last time and knowing that you got out safe will be worth it. I can't hold on much longer, Sam. Go." He gave her a small push in the direction of Sarge and I.

"John, just listen to me." She said taking a step back toward him. "Let me just try one last thing." She pulled out the vial of clear liquid and a needle from her pocket.

It was clear the confusion from blood loss had begun to set in by the look in his eyes. "Sam, you can't. I don't want to die that way." He protested. "I don't want to be one of them." Sarge was starting to lose patience with the amount of time we had been standing still in the hallway. He backed up with his gun still in position to get a closer look.

"There is no guarantee you will." She said soothingly. "I know it is taking a chance, but what other option do you have?" Her voice was shaky at the thought of losing her brother.

He was slipping in and out of consciousness. Even if he did agree, he was in no condition to give his consent. His seemed far shadier than my idea to OD him quickly and painlessly. As Sam readied the needle, he rolled his head toward us. "Sarge." He whispered hoarsely. Sarge squatted by him so he could better hear, but remained at the ready. "Sarge, promise me you will kill me if I turn into one of those things." Sarge looked back at him. That was a lot to ask of someone, but he was the most likely to do it should the need arise. "Promise me." He repeated.

Sarge took a deep breath and said, "Semper Fi." Always faithful.

His eye twitched when Sam punctured his vein and injected the unholy mixture. When she withdrew the needle, we all huddled around him and waited. For what we weren't really sure, but we were now in danger from attack by the zombies that surrounded us as well as one we may have surrounded ourselves.


	9. Chapter 9 Evolution in Action

**Chapter 9- Evolution in Action**

For the longest time it seemed as though nothing were happening. We all surrounded him guns facing out to ward off any zombies that got the notion to take a nibble. All the while he sat slumped against the metal wall, head slightly tilted to the right, pale as death. Still trying to keep my eyes forward, I reached back and felt around until I found his chin. I slipped my hand between the collar of his vest and the soft flesh of his throat searching for a pulse.

Sarge took note and tensely whispered, "Is he dead?"

Between the rough bristle of his beard as it scraped my hand like 40 grit sandpaper, I could feel the faint throbbing of blood flow as it traveled up his carotid carrying a fresh supply of nutrients and oxygen to his brain as well as the mutant C24 concoction.

"Not yet, but he is inching toward the finish line." I answered darkly. I knew that death was a distinct possibility, it happens to the best of them. But as the inevitable moment neared, I found myself mourning the soldier that I wanted to pull through. I had worked so hard to save him it seemed a waste for him to die like that. This was exactly why I never cared to get to know any of my patients- it just makes it easier to wash your hands of the whole affair when they buy the farm.

_It was all so fucking unfair._

Sam gently patted his face and whispered, "John, you have to stay with me. Open your eyes, you can't go. You can't leave me here. John, wake up!" Sarge and I exchanged miserable glances full of mutual sorrow for Sam. It seemed she was the only soul that still held hope when even her brother had the good sense to bow out.

"Check him again." Sarge ordered returning his gaze down the barrel of his gun. He simply couldn't stand to watch Sam any longer even if he did have to hear her. "If he is the same or worse we are going to move out. We can't keep sitting here."

Sam's red rimmed eyes fell on Sarge in betrayal. "He's right, Sam." I shrugged. "It doesn't make sense for more of us to die like sitting ducks. Better we lose one than more." I again pressed my fingers to his warm flesh and paused. His pulse was still weak, but it was faster than before. "Sarge!" I hissed, "I need a light!"

He turned his head just enough for me to hear, "Use the one on Reaper's gun."

I looked at the rather large gun that lay on the floor next to him. His fingers were still tangled around the trigger. "I am not pointing a gun at his face!" I protested. "Besides, I think we have an 'accident' waiting to happen."

Sarge turned to look down and exclaimed, "Shit! Sam, cover me while I do this." She was frozen by Reaper's side with her eyes wide. "Sam! Get your goddamn ass over here and cover me!" He paused and added, "I need your help." His words were slow and deliberate but it worked as she swung around in front of him with her gun extended just as Reaper showed her to do back in the lab.

I raised my eyebrows at him in appreciation of his management skills. He briefly smiled in return before concentrating on the more pressing task at hand. He gently lifted the gun with one hand while untangling Reaper's fingers with the other. He almost had it when John's wrist jerked and Sarge's eyes went wide. "Noooo, Reaper. Bad time to have twitchy fingers." He said to the unconscious man. "Shoot bad guys, not us." He relaxed when John's hand fell back to the floor with a thud once freed from the gun. He gave Reaper one last look before a series of clicks disassembled the light from the barrel of his gun and he handed it to me.

It was a little larger than was needed, but I had to make it work. I squatted over him and I pulled up each of his eyelids with my thumb and shined the light directly in his eye. His pupil response was not that of a dead man, but it was a lot like someone who had overdosed on narcotics. I looked him over in exasperation. Any test an ER doc would use to determine consciousness such as rubbing knuckles along the sternum or using a pen to drag along the sole of the foot were not going to be possible. I would have to remove his flack jacket or boots and neither were practical at the moment. I had no choice but to give him a nice, hard backhand across the face.

His eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. He rolled his head toward me and his greenish eyes were far more sharp and focused than I had ever seen them. They were also very, very angry. In one deft move, he used both hands to shove me backwards with more force than an almost dead man should possess- or a live and healthy one for that matter. I went crashing into Sarge and we both went sprawling. Sam was torn between maintaining her duty and looking back at the ridiculous tangled heap that Sarge and I lay in.

Reaper jumped to his feet with murder still in his eye and for the first time I pondered the possibility that I was going to be killed by the man I attempted to save. My death would come at the hands of this bastard instead of a monster.

_I didn't see this coming._

Sarge scrambled to his feet and stopped Reaper by placing a hand on his chest to hold him at bay. "Easy, man. It surprised the hell out of me too, but she was just doing her job." Reaper continued to glare at me, the rage slowly melting in his eyes until he looked away rubbing the red mark I left on his face.

"This is fucking impossible!" I breathed still looking at him from the floor. "You shouldn't be standing. You were almost dead not more than two minutes ago!"

He continued to stare at me, although it was apparent that he too was wondering the same thing. Sam was looking back more frequently and she was clearly antsy like a kid in line to buy cotton candy. Sarge reclaimed his gun and his post while she ran to him and hugged him fiercely. He gently embraced her and whispered, "I'm ok, Sam" into her scalp as he lowered his head.

"Guys, whadda' say we all meet at Mass to give thanks for this miracle later? Hell, I'll even buy a round of beer at the bar afterwards." Sarge hissed. "I'm all for oohing and ahhing, but let's do it on the other side of the Ark, shall we?"

Sam reluctantly released her brother as though she were the only thing holding him together and doing so would make him vanish. He bent to pick up his gun and then offered the other to help me up. I took it afraid that he would swing the butt of his gun at me and hit me in the head for slapping him, but he didn't. I gave him his light back and frowned when he began scratching at the bandages on his leg again. They had come loose and I sighed as I kneeled by his leg to retie them while he reassembled his gun.

He tried to shy away, but I growled "Hold still." I unwrapped what remained of my beautiful constructed system and gasped.

_There is no fucking way. _

"Jesus Christ." I muttered slowly bringing my hand up to the site of the bite mark. All that remained aside from smears of blood was a neat row of stitches that hung a little loosely in the healed skin. I lightly traced a finger along the faint scar that remained and his thigh muscles flexed as though he were ticklish.

He bent down to whisper so only I could hear, "I can make time for that on the other side if you like, but now is not really good for me." Normally I would have had some witty comeback about the size of his dick or his not being my type, but I was still in awe and he didn't seem to notice at first. When he did glance at where my finger still rested at the end of the row he knitted his eyebrow and removed a Swiss Army knife from one of his pockets and used a small blade to rip them out. We both watched in silent amazement as the thread holes that flanked the scar slowly closed in front of our eyes until the flesh was smooth and no mark remained.

He looked to me for some kind of explanation, but I had none. I never believed in miracles. Every 'spontaneous' recovery had a scientific explanation, but never in all my time in medicine had I witnesses spontaneous regeneration such as Reaper displayed. The rate at which he healed was simply impossible and I was left to wonder if I had officially lost my fucking mind.


	10. Chapter 10 Natural Born Killers

**Chapter 10- Natural Born Killers**

Once I located Reaper's gun I had left on the floor, Sarge got his wish and we were again moving along albeit at a quicker clip than before since Reaper was spy and no longer dying on his feet. He was in a whole new zone of quiet, intensely focused vigilance. He looked even more lethal than before and I would be lying if I said that didn't turn me on just a little. The single minded purpose with which he glared down the barrel of his huge gun made me weak in the knees, but I had to keep my eyes forward and centered on Sarge's massive back much to my dismay. Selfishly, I thought of taking him up on his offer of a more thorough exam once we got to the other side and for a fleeting moment I felt slimy the way Portman made me feel with his disgusting proposition.

However much he may have made me want to puke, I had a newfound respect for him in knowing that every breath may be your last and to go for what makes you happy in the moment. I was not Portman, I reminded myself, I was a doctor with a very vested interest in my patient's health. It made me feel only slightly less a sexual predator but enough to justify the naughty images and thoughts that swirled around my brain at what was probably the most inopportune time of my life.

We arrived at the sealed door to the large room that occupied the Ark. Sarge lowered his gun and peeked through the small window in the door. With my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the corridor, I saw his jaw clench. I hadn't known Sarge too long, but I knew that he only did that when we were absolutely fucked and my heart sank. Why couldn't everything just work out? How many more obstacles did the gods think we needed? The fucking sadists.

"Reaper." He hissed and waved his comrade to his side.

John did one last sweep behind us to make sure none of the flesh eaters had snuck up behind us and he ducked to also look through the window. "Fuck me." He breathed heavily. Now he was just being a tease.

"What is it?" Sam whispered. "What is wrong?"

Reaper turned to us with a dim expression. "The room is swarming with those damn things. There must be 20 or more."

Sarge licked his lips and sighed. "Ok, here is the plan" he announced, "I will lead and Reaper will follow. As soon as he is though, you guys lock the door until one of us tells you to open it. Reaper, how many rounds do you have left?"

He patted himself down and replied, "12. Plus 1 reload."

"Shit." Sarge declared looking at his big fucking gun. "I only have 2 charges left. Your aim better be goddamn perfect, you hear me? We need at least 40 rounds and we only have 27 bullets and 2 mini nukes."

"Really?" Reaper asked looking at the gun impressed.

"Oh yeah!" Sarge glowed as though he couldn't love his own child more. "This thing is a badass! I found it in the weapons R&D lab. Makes me wonder what else they were working on." They both fawned over the gun in a sickening moment of male bonding.

"If we are being left here," I interrupted, "and you need more ammunition to go in there, why don't you take one of our guns? Better yet, stop being overprotective pigs and let us help you." Both their eyes fell on me and I continued. "Think about it. While the two of you are playing GI Joe, Sam and I can get the damn Ark fired up. Multitasking may save the day."

"Sam isn't going in there. I'm not taking that risk." Reaper muttered.

"Fuck you, you ingrate! Fine thanks that is for saving your ass as though my life doesn't matter, like I am expendable! You know what, maybe you are right. She can stay out here by herself while I go in with you and get it going or just the two of you can go because 20 on 2 are fair odds." I spat through clenched teeth.

Sarge looked at him and shrugged. "It was kind of crass, Reaper. Look, everyone here matters and no one person is more important than anyone else. We have to do what will give us the best possible outcome. Reaper, I am sorry but Murphy has a point. Time is a limited factor in our survival and we will need all the advantages we can get. Murphy, tell me you are not afraid to fire that gun with the absolute intent to kill and you are a go."

"I can do it." I vowed with steely nerves. "If it means we all get out together, I will."

"Good." He agreed with hardened eyes. "Then we will move quickly. Sam, give me my gun and you head to the controls and get to work. Murphy, you cover her. Reaper, follow me and let's get to work. On me!" He smiled pushing down the door lever.

Air softly hissed in as the sealed barrier was broken and we quickly filed in. Sarge and Reaper went left into the center of the room while Sam and I went right and crept low along the wall toward the console. Sarge and Reaper stood back to back yelling to draw the attention of the monsters and opened fire when they came into range. Sam and I crouched behind the console and she began flipping switches and pushing buttons while I kept an eye out for any zombies that might come our way rather than face the deadly accuracy of the Marines clad in black.

I watched them work with a sense of morbid fascination. Reaper stood tall and straight and held his gun perfectly level with his shoulder as he quickly but with great precision placed each shot with no amount of hesitation or waste of movement. One by one, the mutant bodies began to pile up like a wall in front of them.

Only once was there any hint of urgency in their plan. Sarge was facing the far wall and not many of the monsters approached from that direction. The bulk of them flanked to Reaper's side and he fired with impossibly lightning quick reflexes until there was a dull and very disappointing empty 'click' when he ran out of ammunition. Even though the zombies continued to approach, he calmly fished a fresh clip out of his pocket and reloaded. He resumed firing, but by that time several had accumulated and pushed toward him faster than he could fire. "Sarge!" He called with just a hint of tension.

Sarge readied his larger gun and turned just as one of the monsters took a swipe at Reaper and knocked him to the ground, leaving slash marks across his neck and face. Sam gasped and started to run to him but I grabbed her shirt and pulled her back down. "Watch." I instructed quietly. Just as before, the wounds slowly sealed and the flow of blood from them ceased. He wiped his hand across his cheek and looked at his bloody hand in amazement while Sarge fired a round from his gun into the crowd. There was a thunderous boom and an eerie blue melting glaze that engulfed the attackers. Suddenly, Reaper was far more interested in that than his own miraculous recovery.

"My God." Sam whispered in awe. I wasn't sure which phenomenon she was referring to, both were pretty damn impressive.

"How's it coming, Sam?" I asked as though we were back in the med lab trying to save her brother. We still were in a way.

"It is warming up." She replied looking over the many screens that blinked and offered minute detailed analysis on what exactly I couldn't guess. "It should be up in a few minutes."

I heard a soft shuffling to my left and I turned to see one of the horribly disfigured mutant zombies about six feet away and closing in. "Sam!" Reaper yelled jumping to his feet. I had no idea why he was yelling at her when I was the one with the gun. In that moment, everything became calm and silent. I became acutely aware of the weight of the gun in my hand as I raised it and carefully aimed just a little left of center where I knew the heart would be. I took a breath and remembered Sarge's instructions to squeeze the trigger instead of pulling it. I didn't want to miss this shot and there was little room for error. I slowly wrapped my index finger around the trigger and felt it give way easily until it fired.

I was not prepared for the loudness of the discharge nor the intense recoil with which the gun snapped back toward my face. My ears were ringing with the gun fire and I noted a searing pain in my wrist, I was certain it had broken under the pressure. What was more important in that moment was the realization that I had hit the mark as the beast stumbled and fell backward with a strange gurgling sound. I felt numb as I approached closer to finish it dreading what a second shock to my wrist would do, but this was one job I couldn't half ass leave.

The zombie's irises were completely black as they looked to me blankly. It wasn't human, that I knew, but it was in some way sentient and I felt a twinge of guilt. That feeling was fleeting, however, when it wrapped it's hands around my ankle and moved in for a bite. I fired again, sending another large caliber bullet through the temple and sighed in relief when the monster went limp. I grasped my wrist in agony and thought back to the expression on Reaper's face when he shot the zombie in the hall. Neither pity nor hatred and now I understood, it was simply what had to be done- nothing more and nothing less. That was fine for hell spawn, but how he was able to look another human in the eye and kill them was beyond me. Something told me that the haunted look he had in his was an indication that he had not yet come to terms with it himself. The empathetic man Sam once knew was still there asking himself the same question.


	11. Chapter 11 The Other Side

**Chapter 11- The Other Side**

"We're up!" Sam shouted pressing another button that released a silver blob of floating goo above the pad.

Reaper continued firing until his second clip ran out and he tossed his useless weapon aside in frustration. "Go, Sam! Get through and tell them what is happening up here!" He yelled circling a zombie that had managed to get close now that he was lacking his primary defense.

"John, I can't.." She began to protest.

He took his eyes off the monster just long enough to shoot her a sharp and vicious glare. "Goddamn it, Sam! Don't fucking argue, just do it!" Sarge gave her an equally menacing glare and she reluctantly took her place on the pad. She took one last look at her brother dancing around the monster before she leaned into the medium that would whisk her millions of miles away back to the surface of the Earth in a split second.

"Sarge!" I yelled and held up Reaper's gun for him to take. I just knew I was next up for riding the lightning and I was glad for it even though it was one of the most wretched experiences I have ever had. It felt something like the worst hangover you have ever had plus being turned inside out multiplied by 100. No one knew who built the damn thing, but it was pretty hard to believe that they could figure out interplanetary travel at warp speed and not know how to make it less traumatic. Dumbasses.

Sarge took the gun and I pressed the button to reload the pad with the next silvery orb. My wrist was killing me and I very much looked forward to some heavy duty painkillers. Sarge took the gun and aimed at the monster that Reaper was carefully evading and fired. It would have been a wicked shot had he not been blindsided by a beast larger than I had previously seen. As a result, the shot went wide and struck Reaper in the back. He gasped in surprise as he fell forward at the feet of his opponent, wincing in pain as he clawed at the floor.

Sarge struggled mightily with his attacker. Sarge was by no means a small man and even under all the body armor I could tell he was extraordinarily muscled and I remembered the apparent ease with which he pulled the dead weight of Reaper down the hall to the med bay as though he were pulling a wheeled wagon. It didn't seem so easy for him now, although he was delivering well placed bone shattering punches as often as he could because he had lost his gun. Reaper was fairing no better with his zombie now laying on top of him to pin him to the ground and closing in to bite his ear off.

I spotted the gun near Reaper's feet and although my salvation awaited me in a glistening sphere and my sense of self preservation screamed at me to leave them, I couldn't. I simply couldn't and I didn't know why. I ran forward and seized the gun before placing it against the temple of Reaper's zombie and pulling the trigger. If there was any doubt before if my wrist was broken, it was a certainty now. In my haste, I didn't use a two handed grip as John had showed Sam and I and I paid dearly for it.

I dropped the gun and my mouth flew open in a silent scream when I grasped my wrist in a futile effort to quell the pain. The monster stirred slightly and in a feat of incredible strength, Reaper pulled his limbs into position and did a full push up with the limp body of the alien still on his back and twisted to the side until it rolled off and fell to the floor. I stared in wonder. Had it been Sarge that had lifted an additional 170+ pounds from a dead position on the floor, I may not have been so impressed. But Reaper was not Sarge and not nearly as large, making it all the more unbelievable. He glanced at me in silent gratitude and quickly retrieved his gun to place the final shot.

He turned back to see me holding my wrist sick and pale in pain. "You should go." He said quietly. "Tell Sam we are coming."

There was an indisputable sense of authority in his voice and I found myself nodding and returning to the pad. I looked back one last time to see him struggling with the monster that straddled Sarge and kept him from getting to his feet. I felt the cool liquid surround me and all went black before I reemerged on the other side, still holding my fractured bones and vomiting violently.

_Fucking stupid aliens._

Sam dashed onto the pad and helped me up. Once my brain caught up with my body, I relayed Reaper's message as well as the events that had unfolded since she left. She paced the floor like a caged lion, counting the seconds that passed until her brother came through and she could see for herself that he was alright. Seconds turned into tense minutes and still no sign of him or Sarge. She was contemplating going back through when finally a flash of light appeared on the pad and Reaper was dumped onto the floor. He rolled onto his hands and knees and promptly puked as had become expected by the staff at the facility. There was no shame in it, everybody did it, even badass Marines.

He looked a little worse for wear since last I saw him. His uniform was in disarray and he seemed to be wearing more blood than he had before, but who knew where it came from. But there was something else- it was the dazed, sad look in his eyes that told me something had gone horribly wrong.

"John!" Sam yelled running to him in relief. He slowly stood and wiped his mouth, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist when she embraced him. "Where's Sarge?" She asked leading him off the pad in case the massive man appeared and fell on them.

"He's not coming, Sam." Reaper answered in a tortured tone. His eyes begged her not to make him say any more, but she did anyway and it kind of pissed me off. If she cared so damn much about him she would read between the lines and not make him spell it out for her.

It was clear he didn't stay to build a summer house because he loved the view. He was dead and my heart sank a little. He seemed so charismatic and truly connected to his men. He worked as hard as I did, taking orders from me in the med bay and putting aside his pride and rank to save one of his men. It was a damn shame.

"He didn't make it." Reaper simply said. He was not a man of many words and it seemed especially now they escaped him. He looked down at the floor as he spoke and there was a pregnant implication of guilt in his tone. I felt sick at the realization that he might have killed the man. John didn't seem the crazy or vengeful type and that left me to believe that he had no choice. Maybe Sarge turned into one of them if he was infected. Maybe the larger monster simply got the better of him and he asked John to kill him out of mercy to spare him further pain. After all, Sarge had sworn to do the same for him when Sam injected him with the C24, Semper Fi. No matter what actually happened, Reaper was numb with sadness and none of it would bring his boss back.

I was happy to be alive and live through the nightmare on the red planet and no doubt Sam and John were too, but there was a small asterisk in John's case. He was the lone survivor of his team and survivor's guilt can be crushing. I was not a warm and fuzzy person, but he was clearly suffering and I felt compelled to comfort him in some way. However, neither his position as a Marine or mine as a hardened surgeon would allow for that, so I thought it improper and simply watched quietly from a distance. After all, he had Sam while I had…..well….I shook my head. Better not to think about that and focus on simply living and breathing, something I doubted I would continue to do even 12 hours ago.

I turned away. The ordeal was over and there was no reason to hang around. I had to get my damn wrist reset and it pissed me off that I wouldn't be able to operate for damn near 2 months or more. Kinda hard to do precision work when your arm is in a cast. John no doubt had a litany of debriefings to attend and who knew what Sam was going to do now that her dig had been closed again. Whatever they were going to do, it didn't involve me, so I left them huddled together by a console while I headed for the elevator back to the surface.

I jumped when a soft whisper tickled my ear, "Going somewhere, Dr. Murphy?" I turned to see John directly behind me with the same blank expression he had the last time he pulled that shit on me. He lowered his eyes and quietly said, "You will have to stick around to give a statement to the brass."

"Fuck them." I sneered. "You know as much as I do if not more. You can tell them."

"You might as well hang around because if they have to hunt you down they will and you won't like it." He warned. "Besides, you have to get that looked at." He gestured to the wrist clenched in my hand. "45 calibers have a hell of a kick." I sarcastically laughed at him and rolled my eyes. "Listen," He said lowering his voice to a sexy purr, "if you are hellbent on leaving, I'm not going to stop you. But I just wanted to say thanks for saving my ass…twice."

I shrugged noncommittally and waved him off. "You do your job and I do mine." I wasn't the world's best at accepting compliments. He lived and I was able to see it. That was enough for me.

"And thanks for being there for Sam." He added. "For being her friend up there. It is a fucking lonely place for us and I know she wouldn't have made it out without you."

"She didn't make it out because of me. It was you." I corrected. "I hope that the two of you can patch up whatever went down to separate you because I know she thinks the world of you despite what she says." The elevator finally came and I stepped inside the vast empty box alone. "Take care, Reaper." I smirked as the doors closed. He watched me and there was a hesitant pause as though he wanted to say more but ran out of time. As I ascended I felt like the most miserable, lonely person on the entire fucking planet.

**The End**


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